Chapter Seventeen

Meeting the New Goliaths

Crossbody

“Alright, folks.” Holt strode into the backstage area later that afternoon, Taylor just behind him. “The new talent will be here soon, so look sharp. Be on your best behaviour. That means no sneaking off to fuck in your dressing room, Gabe and Biff. Or hiding your head somewhere to scare them, Dan.”

The dullahan and Vince both snickered on the couch, where they were playing video games.

“Are there any questions before they arrive?” Holt asked, placing his hands on his hips as he looked around at us.

My only question was where he’d bought that peach silk blouse, but I kept it to myself as I faced forward on the treadmill again and concentrated on running.

“Do they have any experience?” Biff asked.

Holt raised a brow at him. “No more or less than any of you did when I found you. Unless someone out there set up another supernatural professional wrestling league while I wasn’t looking.” He paused and looked over at Taylor. “No one has, right?”

“No, honey. You’re good.”

“Lovely.” Holt turned back to us. “Anything else?”

“Will their debut matches be against each other or some of us?” Val asked.

“Some of you.” He huffed. “I know what I’m doing, Val. Jesus.”

“Alright.” She raised her hands placatingly, mouth twitching. “Just asking.”

“Who?” Heidi asked.

“I’m still deciding.”

Several people huffed, before Dan said, “You must have some idea, though.”

“Of course I do.” Holt smoothed back his hair. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna tell you yet.”

“What’s the Beast?” Kit called down from the ceiling.

Holt pursed his lips. “Next question.”

“Huh?” They flew down to land on a corner ring of the training post, wobbling a little. “Why?”

“The Beast has asked me to keep his identity a secret,” Holt said smoothly, inspecting his fingernails and clearly loving the mystery.

“Whaaat?” Gabe was getting excited. “Is he famous?”

Holt snorted. “No, he’s not famous.”

“But you can still tell us what he is though, right?” Carl asked curiously. “I mean, we’ll figure it out when we see him anyway.”

“Unlikely.” Holt tossed back his hair. “He’ll probably be wearing his mask.”

We all looked over at him, myself included.

“Why?” Kit asked again, looking confused.

Holt huffed. “Because that’s what makes him comfortable. Just be respectful, you dicks. He’ll share what he wants to share. I’m sure plenty of you have secrets.”

“What?” Kit looked around. “Who has secrets? I don’t have secrets. What are people’s secrets?”

I noticed Vince and Dan exchange a quick look, which made me stiffen.

What secrets did they have?

“I want to know people’s secrets!” Kit was whining.

“Then they wouldn’t be secrets, you dink.” Gabe’s brows twitched into a frown. “But I don’t think I have any secrets from the rest of you, either. I’m an open book. I mean, I’m pretty sure you’ve all even seen my butthole at some point over the years.”

“That is unfortunately correct,” Val said flatly.

“Ooh, wait, I know who has a secret!” Kit exclaimed, then—making my entire body stiffen—turned and pointed at me. “Crossbody does.”

“No, I don’t,” I said quickly, forcing my eyes not to dart over to Vince.

Did they all know? Did everyone know?

“Yeah, you do. None of us know your real name.”

A blend of utter relief and total dread simultaneously flooded my insides. Everyone was looking at me now. Holt—who did, in fact, know my real name—raised his brows at me and pursed his lips.

Instead of answering, I turned back to face the wall and increased the treadmill’s speed to a sprint so the pounding of my feet on the belt gave me a legitimate excuse to ignore any questions.

“Like I said,” Holt piped up hastily, “no one is obligated to share anything they’re not comfortable sharing. That includes all of you and our new wrestlers. Don’t be assholes to the Beast. Or any of them.”

“I wouldn’t be an asshole ,” Kit said sulkily. “I just wanna know what he is.”

“Knowing or not knowing won’t make a difference. He’s here to do a job, just like you, and if he wants to wear a mask while he’s doing it, he can. Any other questions?” he added, his tone sharper now.

“What are they all like?” Susan asked after a few seconds of silence.

“You’ll find out in a minute. In fact…” He glanced back as the door opened behind him and Larkin poked his head through. “You’ll find out right now. Bring them in, Lark.”

The young fae looked excited. He held open one of the doors while Seb appeared to grab the other. I quickly turned off the treadmill and snatched up my towel to blot my face as five unfamiliar figures filed into the room.

La Dame Blanche led the group, walking gracefully in a way that hinted at her being a professionally trained dancer. Ballet, most likely. She gave us a small but confident smile, her lips painted deep red and her eyes even bigger and more eerily dark in person.

She was quite beautiful, I noticed. Elegant. And she was dressed well, in a pair of grey woollen cigarette trousers and an expensive-looking but casual cashmere sweater.

Just behind her was John-o’-the-Wisp, appearing as cocky as he had in his poster. My lip curled a little. He was grinning, looking entirely at ease already, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He nodded at the wrestlers on the couch, then glanced around the room with interest.

The shadowpeople duo, the Ghastly Boys—a ridiculous name, in my opinion—moved deeper into the room as one. They didn’t appear to be walking, instead floating as shadowpeople could do when not in their completely solid, humanoid form. They were wearing identical black jeans and oversized black hoodies with the hoods up. Shadows curled around them, hiding their faces completely except for the yellow glow of their eyes, which swept over us in sync.

The Beast of Burden brought up the rear, and all of us slowly looked up. He was enormous. Easily as tall as Corey, and perhaps even thicker in muscle and bulk. He, too, was wearing jeans and a hoodie, though his was sleeveless, and while the hood was up, it was the mask on his face that hid him.

He definitely wasn’t an orc, though I couldn’t figure out what he was as I eyed the murky, mottled green skin on his arms. His biceps bulged, even with his arms hanging by his sides. I noticed Gabe staring at them and practically salivating.

Once they’d all stopped, standing in a line, Holt cleared his throat.

“Everyone, meet our newest Goliaths.”

There was a chorus of murmured greetings, before Corey stepped forward.

“We’re delighted to have you join the team,” he said smoothly. “This is a very exciting time for Goliaths, with us expanding and growing so much. But we’re still a small family here, and we hope you’ll feel very welcome.”

“I’m very happy to become a part of it,” La Dame Blanche said in a thick French accent, flashing a warm smile that was at odds with her ghostly appearance. She was even paler in person, and I had been right—she was slightly translucent. Definitely a phantom.

“Can’t wait,” John-o’-the-Wisp said with a grin. I detected the hint of an accent on him too, and realised he was British—somewhere in the south of the country, by the sounds of it—when he added, “I came to watch once when I was on holiday here. It was bloody brilliant.”

“Oh, how wonderful.” Corey nodded with a bright smile.

Neither the Ghastly Boys nor the Beast of Burden said a word.

“Well.” Holt clapped his hands. “We can’t wait for you all to get started. I thought today would be a good opportunity for you to meet everyone before your first day. So… I guess everyone come up and introduces yourselves?”

Gabe was the first to move, eagerly striding forward and heading straight for the Beast of Burden.

“Hi,” he purred, holding out his hand. “Gabe. Incubus. Nunhallowed Pound. In an open relationship with that hunk over there.” He tilted his head toward Biff, who smirked and crossed his arms. “And what can we call you?”

The Beast of Burden hesitated, then politely shook his hand for a brief moment and said nothing.

“You can call him Beast,” Holt said with a hint of sternness.

“Beast,” Gabe repeated lustily. “I love it. So… dangerous. ”

“Jesus Christ,” Holt muttered, looking around at the rest of us pleadingly, which made Val start to head over.

One by one, the wrestlers introduced themselves to our new colleagues. I hung back when I saw Vince grinning and shaking hands boisterously with John-o’-the-Wisp.

Dan was beside him, and he jokingly asked with a grin, “Any relation to Will?”

Instantly, John’s easy smile grew stiff and forced. He let out a terse chuckle. “Yes, actually. He’s my older brother. And obviously the one everyone knows about.” He bared his teeth in a non-smile. “Made quite a name for himself.”

“Oh. Uh…” Dan shared a quick glance with Vince, having clearly meant it as a joke but having also quite clearly having touched a nerve. “Nice. Cool. Well, uh, I’m sure everyone will know the name John-o’-the-Wisp too soon.”

They moved on, and I finally took a hesitant step forward to introduce myself. I was feeling almost… nervous, and I despised feeling nervous. I knew it wouldn’t be long before Vince turned the new wrestlers against me, like he had with the rest of the team by insisting on taking every single thing I said the wrong way.

No , I thought, lifting my chin and striding forward with determination. I wasn’t going to let him. I wasn’t going to give him the chance.

“High Lord Crossbody. A pleasure,” I said smoothly to the Beast, shaking his hand and moving on, because I knew he wasn’t going to answer me.

I didn’t extend my hand to the Ghastly Boys, because I’d noticed they’d hunched—simultaneously—in discomfort when any of the others had attempted to shake their hands. I’d been taught since I was a child to pay attention to things like that and adjust how I interacted with people accordingly.

“High Lord Crossbody,” I repeated, giving them a small nod.

“Ken,” the one on the left said, very very quietly, his voice almost a whisper.

“Barney,” the other added, just as softly.

I paused, then politely said, “Barney and Ken?”

They nodded in sync.

“Pleasure,” I said after a moment, then moved on, trying not to let my lip curl as I came face to face with John-o’-the-Wisp. He’d quickly recovered after the mention of his brother—obviously a sore spot—and looked far too at ease. Cocky and full of himself.

“Hello,” I said reluctantly.

“Hi there.” He smirked and swept his gaze down my frame. When he took my hand, he squeezed it a little. “John. Nice to meet you, mate.”

“Crossbody,” I said back in a somewhat clipped voice, discreetly tugging my hand free and continuing before he could say anything else. When I stopped in front of La Dame Blanche, a small smile tilted my mouth.

“Pleasure to meet you,” I said in French. I was fluent in six languages.

“You speak French?” she asked in the same language, sounding delighted.

“Not perfectly, but well enough.” I tried to sound humble as my smile widened, even though I was near enough perfect.

She laughed, giving my arm a brief squeeze. “You’re better than ‘well enough.’ You’ll have to stop me from chattering away to you in French all the time. I still need to practise my English.”

“It sounded flawless,” I told her smoothly. “And I’d be more than happy to speak to you whenever you’d like.”

“You’re very kind. Thank you.” She patted my arm before releasing me. “I’m Eloise, by the way. And a phantom. You’re fae, yes?”

“Royal fae,” I couldn’t help but clarify, smoothing back my hair. “Prince of the Spring Court, actually.”

“Oh wow. I’ve heard that, when I’ve watched the wrestling before, but I assumed it was just your persona.”

“Not at all.” I managed to give her a polite smile, even though the topic always made me feel mildly ill. “Anyway, I’ll let the others introduce themselves. But do feel free to ask me any questions you may have.”

“Thank you.” She beamed up at me and tilted her chin, so I dutifully leaned down to let her air kiss my cheek.

As I stepped away, my gaze snagged on Vince. He was already watching me, his eyes slightly narrowed as they darted to La Dame Blanche. Then he quickly looked away, turning and busying himself with a protein shake at the counter.

I was feeling more hopeful as I walked back to the treadmill. Eloise seemed very pleasant, but I could already tell that I was unlikely to get on with John. He seemed similar to Vince. Maybe even worse.

And that was saying something.

Then I remembered our conversation with Corey earlier, and my mood instantly blackened.

Fucking couples therapy. With Vince .

Maybe I would just quit, so I wouldn’t have to go through that torture.